Through driving mists I seemed to see A Thing that smirked and smiled: And found that he was giving me A lesson in Biography, As if I were a child. Each seated on his favourite post, We chumped and chawed the buttered toast They gave us for our tea.
I now remember all about it; I wrote the thing myself. Some literary swell, who saw It, thought it seemed adapted for The Magazine he edited. The notion had occurred to her, The children would be happier, If they were taught to vary. Try it yourself, my little dear! It took ME something like a year, With constant practising. Just try and gibber if you can! The setting-up is always worst: Such heaps of things you want at first, One must be made of money! And then, for all you have to do, One pound a week they offer you, And find yourself in Bogies!
Phantasmagoria (poem) - Wikipedia
The Phantom shook his head and smiled. We visit for a single day, And whether then we go, or stay, Depends on circumstances. But, after twenty years or so, The wainscotings begin to go, So twenty is the limit. His duties are to pinch, and poke, And squeeze them till they nearly choke. Who finds it, in a little time, Grow every moment less sublime, And votes the thing a bore: Yet, having once begun to try, Dares not desert his quest, But, climbing, ever keeps his eye On one small hut against the sky Wherein he hopes to rest: Who climbs till nerve and force are spent, With many a puff and pant: Who still, as rises the ascent, In language grows more violent, Although in breath more scant: Who, climbing, gains at length the place That crowns the upward track.
And, entering with unsteady pace, Receives a buffet in the face That lands him on his back: So I, that had resolved to bring Conviction to a ghost, And found it quite a different thing From any human arguing, Yet dared not quit my post. But, keeping still the end in view To which I hoped to come, I strove to prove the matter true By putting everything I knew Into an axiom: Now DO be cool and take a nap! Such a ridiculous old chap Was never seen before!
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With that he struck the board a blow That shivered half the glasses. Good-night, old Turnip-top, good-night! When the narrator awakens, the ghost continues telling his story. Hailing from a long line of ghosts and of the order, the Phantom tells his family tree as such: His father was a Brownie; his mother was a Fairy.
Phantasmagoria and other poems
The ghost informs us of the ways of ghosts: Ghosts are required to spend a great deal of money on skulls, crossbones, coloured fire, the fitting of robes, and other expenses. The ghost mentions that he is subject to the authority of the Knight-Mayor. When the narrator objects that he is not to blame for the ghost's carelessness, the ghost quickly calms down, accepts responsibility for his mistake, and thanks Tibbets for his hospitality.
He says a Sprite may be sent instead and gives him advice on how to manage the sprite by rapping him on the knuckles. Phantasmagoria by Lewis Carroll was first published by Macmillan and Co. Macmillan was also the publisher of the Alice in Wonderland books by Carroll. This may be confusing.
Some library records for Phantasmagoria and Other Poems , and other sources concerning that title, provide a list of contents that includes the four poems first published in That is because Macmillan re-used the old title Phantasmagoria and Other Poems for a different collection in and stated on its title page: See Ebook at Project Gutenberg , whose source is the collection. This collection matches the Rhyme? A copy of the first edition is the source for Project Gutenberg Ebook From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
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